


Physical

by gretaamyk



Category: Criminal Minds, Matthew Gray Gubler - Fandom, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Spencer reid imagie, criminal minds - Freeform, criminal minds imagine, spencer reid x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gretaamyk/pseuds/gretaamyk
Summary: Reid and y/n have to go on a date to lure out the unsub who’s been stalking her, but they seem to forget it’s fake.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66





	Physical

The smell of the hospital was nauseating. Or maybe it was a side affect to the pain killers they put me on when I was admitted. I didn’t even know I was hurt that bad, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re not conscious to feel it. Though I couldn’t forget the shovel he was carrying before he introduced it to the back of my skull. And I couldn’t forget his face beforehand, he looked censurable, like he could be sick. It was almost like he didn’t want to go through with it. But I guess he figured out what he wanted and that’s why i’m connected to so many machines and tubes right now. But he could have killed me. I guess I got lucky.

I was out like a light during the attack, and I was truly thankful that I couldn’t feel what he was doing. In addition to my head injury he broke three of my fingers and one of my ribs. I understand now that even though I didn’t like the idea of being on painkillers, or the way it made my brain feel like oatmeal, it beats having to feel every abrasion I experienced while comatose. Don’t get me wrong, I felt it and it hurt, but it was more manageable than not.

I didn’t notice that my nurse was in the room with me before she started talking, startling me into a sitting position. “Miss y/l/n, the FBI are here to ask you some questions about what happened. Do you think you can do that?” She asked softly.

“Oh… yeah, I guess so.” I trailed off. She walked out of the room, and a tall FBI agent replaced her in front of me. He was familiar. But then I remembered him. Not his name or anything, but a girl never forgets the first time she’s questioned by the FBI, even just as a witness. The last time I saw him was years ago and he has clearly matured since then. He had facial hair and his hair was more care free than it was then, it almost looked like a lions mane.

“Hey stranger,” I said slowly with a smile, “I remember that pretty face of yours.” My voice didn’t match my battered appearance. I wasn’t loopy, but my demeanor was certainly enhanced. I mentally cursed over how the one time I run into him is when I’m broken in a hospital bed. 

He looked at me curiously. I figured he didn’t remember me as the transcription of our last and only encounter could fit on the palm of my hand. But instead he smirked, “I remember you too. The Lotus, 2015, I ordered a beer and you jokingly asked for my ID, so I pulled out my FBI badge.”

My eyebrows raised, I found myself curious but nonetheless impressed. He read my expression before continuing. “Eidetic memory. I remember everything.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, teasing woven into my words, “what can I do for you, Agent?”

“Doctor, actually,” he clarified with humility, “Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I raised my eyebrows at the honorific. I mean, being an FBI Agent is impressive enough as it is, but this man is a Doctor? He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me, but I’ve worked for the same grungy bar my whole adult life. Nothing like a well accomplished contemporary to make you question every decision you’ve ever made.

“A doctor? What are you doing for the FBI then?”

“Oh, no, they’re PhD’s, Three actually. I’m not a medical doctor,” he clarified as if that was any less impressive.

I also remembered how easy he was to tease. I had flirted with him and he turned as red as a tomato. I smiled and spoke softly, “Oh that’s a shame, ‘cause I could definitely use a physical right about now.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t need a degree for that,” he said without fluster. My smile dropped and heat came to my face. This man was not the same one I met years ago, he never could have made me blush like I was now. “But If I may, I need to ask you some questions.”

I choked out, “o-oh, okay, sure.” I saw a smirk appear on his face, and he sat down in the chair next to my hospital bed. “Perfect.” He changed the subject as promptly as you could change the channel. “Now, before last night, you’ve seen the attacker following you around, correct?”

I nodded.

“Where?”

“Well he’s a regular at the Bar I work at.. And I never really payed much attention to him. I refilled his drink maybe one or two times… but the way he would look at me made me uncomfortable so I usually asked my coworker Nathan to deal with him.” I explained softly as I couldn’t bring my voice up to it’s normal tone or decibel . I looked up at him to see if he was writing anything down. He wasn’t, but he was looking at me in a way that I could tell he was listening. He nodded, urging me to continue my thought. “But then, I-I started seeing him at my grocery store at the opposite side of town as the bar…. And then after that, that’s when I saw him looking through my window. He did that on multiple occasions and every time I called the police nothing would happen. So here I am.” I joked but he didn’t react.

“I understand. You said you didn’t like how he was looking at you.” He adjusted in his seat and talked slowly as if he was trying to explain his thought process in a way I could understand, “do you mean… sexually? Like he wanted something from you? Or to do something to you?”

I thought for a minute, and I looked down at my lap, “Yes?” I finally spoke, saying it like a question, “but it wasn’t just that. It seemed like was fighting with himself in there.” I pointed to my head. Spencer sat up in his chair, as if something clicked in his brain. “Doctor Reid?”

“Do you remember any names he might have introduced himself as?”

I had to think about it, I looked up at him apologetically as the medication I was on seemed to have stunted my recall. “James, I think? I don’t remember anything else, I’m sorry. I got hit in the head pretty hard.”

Reid stood up abruptly and started to dig in the leather satchel on his hip. He pulled out a card and handed it to me. It had his full name and job on it, along with a phone number and an email. “Thank you very much Miss y/l/n, do not hesitate to call me if you remember anything important.”

“And if I don’t can I still call you?” I asked but he had already rushed out of the room, leaving me alone in the room. I looked again at the card between my fingers, I hummed softly looking at his phone number, curious if it was his personal one. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

-

I was happy to be dismissed from the hospital a few days later, but after what happened, coming back to where I live by myself wasn’t exactly appealing. I didn’t think that being unsupervised was smart because it turns out not only was I broken, but I was mildly concussed too. Even so, I couldn’t stay another day. With my income I simply couldn’t afford it.

It was eleven o'clock when I finally woke up from my phone buzzing. I grabbed my phone off my bedside table, to see an unknown number was calling me. I made sure the volume was quiet before I accepted, having already made the mistake of playing music at full volume.

“Hello, is this y/n?”

I smiled at the familiar voice, “Hey, Pretty Boy, miss me?” I said in a sing song tone. He ignored my question.

“I was calling because- wait, are you okay? Health wise? I mean I know you were hurt but-”

“After you left they told me I had a concussion and then they pretty much sent me home. Assholes.”

“They sent you home?” His voice was serious, I couldn’t think of why, but then again in my condition I couldn’t really think at all. “Are you alone?”

“Yep,” I popped the 'p’ sound and I rubbed my face with my hands. I heard movement on the other side of the line and then I heard nothing at all. “Dr Reid?”

“Y/n, I’m coming over, it’s not safe for you to be alone right now.”

“You don’t know where I live.”

“Yeah I do. Bye.” I heard the dial tone in my ears as he hung up on me. I clicked my tongue in disappointed before actually processing what he said. Doctor Reid was coming to my house. I sat up, way too quickly to be healthy, and I got out of bed to get ready. I knew he was coming over because I needed to be protected from a psychopath or whatever, but the only thing I was worried about was what I could wear that showed that I respect myself but that I’m not trying too hard. I made my bed and picked up clothes of the floor, but as I didn’t want to overexert myself I stopped there and walked over to my living room couch.

Soon enough I heard a knock on the door and I got up to let Spencer in, but after Spencer walked in, so did two men and a women with black hair and bangs. They started to introduce themselves but before they could speak, Spencer came up to me and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

“I knew you were concussed as soon as you called me Pretty Boy.” He laid me down on the couch, “you need to be staying hydrated and not over exerting yourself. Where’s your kitchen, I’ll get you water.”

I pointed vaguely behind him where the kitchen was, and he turned over his shoulder and started to dig through my pantry. I smiled at the gesture.

“Hello, my name is Agent Hotchner,” one of the men introduced, after looking at Spencer with what could only be described as paternal exasperation. They all pulled out FBI badges matching Spencer’s from a few days ago. “This is Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss. Now I’m sure you’re aware of why we’re here, but we have something important to discuss.”

I looked at all of their faces, and started to sit up before Agent Prentiss stops me, “Don’t sit up, Reid likes to feel helpful.”

“My ears are burning, stop talking about me.” Spencer said, returning from the kitchen with a large bottle of water, handing it to me. I grinned at him, but the two other men didn’t look happy.

“What do we need to discuss?” I put us back on track, making Agent Hotchner seem relieved.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why this is a Federal matter,” Hotchner said, and I nodded in agreement, “The man who attacked you has killed three other women after stalking them for months on end. We are not trying to alarm you but must be honest by saying that you are the next target. We have reason to believe that he will keep trying to reach you until he kills you, due to numerals disorders leading to hyper-fixating on you and the women before you.”

Morgan piped in, “We have an idea who this man is and we happen to know exactly where he will be later today. Your Bar.”

“Then you can arrest him… right?” I posited, feeling my heart beating up in my throat, but Spencer silently shook his head.

“Unfortunately, it’s not that easy,” Prentiss said, “Right now, the man we’re looking at is only guilty in theory which means that he needs to be lured out so we can arrest him. He’s a coward, he won’t come out unless he feels like it’s necessary.”

“Well, what do I have to do with that?” I asked slowly, looking between the four agents in front of me, who were all looking expectantly at me.

“We need you to go out on a fake date with one of our agents, so he will get jealous and come out of hiding. Now we understand if you are unsure, but-”

“I’ll do it.” I interrupted. None of this is what I want, none of this is an ideal case-scenario, but at this point I was pissed off and I need to do what I can to put it behind me. “But I have one condition.”

Everyone looked at me expectantly.

“I want to go out with Spencer.”

-

The bar that I know so well felt different under this strange circumstance. Maybe it’s because I’m supposed to be working right now, and I could feel my managers cold glare burning a hole in the back of my head. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, though after the incident, I was pretty much uncomfortable all the time. I tried to shove those feelings to the back of my brain. Reid looked up from his menu sympathetically.

“You look pretty.” He said, seemingly as a consolation.

I held up my cast hand and pointed to my bruised face that I tried to cover up with makeup, as if that itself was an argument. “Thanks,” I grumbled sarcastically, and he just laughed.

“No, seriously, I’m not just trying to make you feel better. I can’t think of anyone who would look that good with four bone fractures and a case of mild head trauma.”

“Well then, thank you… I think.” I know he meant broken bones and a concussion, but I felt cardinally dumber by the way he spoke. However, I also felt the desire to sit here and listen to him speak for as long as I could get away with. I started to stand up, “I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?”

“No,” he grabbed my uninjured arm, restricting my movement. “You have a concussion. If you drink, your cognition will plummet. It can reduce the effectiveness of your medication, and possibly dangerously amplify the effects of them. Sit down. You can have water.”

I scoffed, slowly returning to my chair. “Why did you take me to a fucking bar then?”

“It wasn’t my choice, sweetheart, and you were the one that wanted me.” He pulled the menu back into his hands, but his eyes remained on me. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Spencer, what changed since the last time I saw you?” I asked bluntly, his eyebrows raised in questioning, “You could barely look me in the eyes that day and now you’re teasing and calling me sweetheart.”

“Alright no offense, but you’re acting like we’re friends. We spoke one time before I saw you on Friday. You don’t know anything about me. Okay?” He snapped. I leaned back in my chair at a lost for words. I didn’t know what to say for that.

“I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry,” I spit out slowly, “but Spencer?”

“What?”

I leaned into him across the table and spoke low so no one else could hear. “If we’re going to get this guy, he needs to think we’re together. I know you’re not an actor, but we’re going to have to give the performance of a lifetime so I don’t fucking die. I’m not risking my life because you don’t wanna play along. Capiche?”

I sat back in my chair with a small smirk on my face as he was the one looking dumbfounded by my words. One of my coworkers came by our table and threw down a basket of french fries that we ordered. She looked at me and gestures to the boy in front of me, silently asking why I’ve never mentioned him before. I shrugged and she walked away with amused expression on her face. He sat up in taller in his chair, and mumbled a small Capiche.

I smiled, “Good boy. So, where’d you grow up?”

“I grew up in Las Vegas.”

“Vegas, huh? You good at gambling then?”

“The best,” he smirked, I guess he was finally willing to let himself settle, “i’m banned in casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump because of my card counting ability. Apparently they don’t like it if you win too much.”

“Oh, in that case maybe you could teach me your ways. Or is that one of those ’Magicians never tell their secrets’ type things?”

“I could teach you how to gamble, but my magic, you’ll never get it out of me.”

He actually did magic. Of course he did. I wasn’t surprised. But as our time together went on, there were so many different factors of this mans life that were surprising.

It started with the lighthearted facts. He is both a Caltech and an MIT graduate, He has a three godsons named Henry, Michael, and Hank, and that he is a slight technophobe and germaphobe. But as the night went on and the more drinks he had, things started to become more serious. He wasn’t drunk, he knew he was technically on a case right now, but he needed help relaxing.

“Y/n?” He asked so lightly that I almost didn’t hear him over the loud sounds of the bar.

“Yeah, Spence?”

He placed his empty glass down at the table, a loud click sound in its wake. He looked up at me and I noticed a look in his eye different from the hours leading up to now. “You asked me… you asked me what changed since that night when we met… and, well, the truth is that so much happened between then and now that it hurt to relive it all. So I snapped at you and i’m so sorry.”

I smiled sadly at him and reached forward to place my uninjured hand on top of his. He was tense, and I retreated as I remembered he didn’t like being touched, he had told me earlier. But when I moved my hand, he grabbed it in his and placed it back on the table. “Spence, you don’t need to apologize. You don’t owe me anything.”

“But the thing is, y/n, I like you, I really do,” Tears started to well up in his eyes as he spoke and my heart broke for him, “And I want to tell you about what happened.”

I nodded slowly, grazing his knuckles with the pad of my thumb. “I… sorry,” he laughed, wiping tears away from his cheeks, “I was arrested and put in prison because I was framed for murder.”

I tried my best not to react, but I choked on my water that he graciously allowed me to have. That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. I stifled an apology.

“I knew that I was innocent, but everyone was telling me that I murdered this poor woman. And then, as I was trying to make sense of what happened, I started to believe it myself. My girlfriend was murdered in front of me, my schizophrenic mother was diagnosed with dementia, and though all of this happened within a few years, after I was thrown in there, I couldn’t decipher what was real anymore. I was in there for months before they realized I was innocent. I was so used to it that I had started standing in front of unlocked doors for minutes on end because I didn’t realize I wasn’t locked up anymore. But after all of that, I figured that if I had the strength to deal with all of the shit thrown at me then I am able to look a girl in the eyes and call her sweetheart if that’s what I want to do.”

I didn’t know what to say. We’re both sitting at a small table in the disheveled corner of my workplace completely silent. We were both crying at this point and looking into each others sad, enervated eyes, and I felt like I’d never be able to connect with someone on such a deep an personal level than I had in this moment.

My hand came up to his face like he was a beautiful brailled poem and I was the poet reading the story. I touched the bags underneath his eyes and the distance around the swell of his cheeks. His eyes started to close under my taction. My thumb stopped over his chapped lips, and he kissed the pad of it delicately. We sat there for what seemed like an eternity of peace and understanding.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at the purse of my lips. His eyes reconnected with mine, and within a moment he had breached over to connect our mouths together. His two large hands reached up to cup the sides of my face with power, though his touch was anything but merciless. Our eyes closed as our mouths danced together like the melody of the song playing over the loud speaker of the bar. Tears were falling from our tired eyes and we painted them on the canvas of our cheeks. We didn’t stop to ask questions or worry, instead being lost in the certainty of the uncertain. I kissed him like he was my air to which I couldn’t breath without.

We broke apart only when we heard the shushed panic of the room around us, stemming from the clicking off of the safety on a gun that was pointed directly at my head. My heart stopped beating, and this time for an entirely different reason than why it stopped just moments before.

James was standing there with a look of nothing but hurt and betrayal. I knew that I did nothing other than what I was told by the people holding my life in their hands, but James’ expression vexed me. I couldn’t help but feel guilty for doing absolutely nothing. Much like Spencer had in the backstory he had shed upon me.

I couldn’t even manage to think of how to breathe, but Spencer with an unbelievable amount of tranquility slowly stood up and put his hands up.

“James, put the gun down. We can talk about this.” Spencer said, somehow calmer than the man with the gun. James was shaking the hardware in his grasp.

“Y/n, you lied to me! You lied!” his voice fluctuating, and his eyes shot bullets

“I never lied.” Spencer gave me a look, telling me to stay quiet.

“Then what do you call making out with this… this fucking bread stick!”

“James,” Spencer soothed, though slightly taken aback by his new nickname, “James. She doesn’t love you anymore. Put the gun down, we can talk about it. But you need to understand that she’s with me now.”

I looked behind James’ shoulder. I saw the bartenders peeking over the bar, customers hugging each other and reassuring each other. They were whispering to each other that it would be okay, but I could tell that they weren’t completely sure themselves. I wished that I could tell them that it would be, that I trusted Spencer with every life in this building. But I couldn’t.

“She, she wouldn’t do that… Y/n, tell him you wouldn’t do that.” James waved his gun at me insistently. 

I looked to Spencer. He seems to know everything about everything, please tell me he knows what I should say. But he just nodded at me, limited communication, limited on what he could advise.

“He’s right… I-I love him now, James. You saw the kiss yourself.”

“No… No! You ungrateful bitch!” He spat, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.” He lowered his gun and stomped towards me, reaching out and gripping my arm with such force that I was sure to be bruised afterwards. I cried out from his painful touch, but Spencer had already gotten between us and disarmed him with the ease of reading a book. James cursed as Spencer shoved him down on the table and pinned his arms around his back and hooked the handcuffs around his wrist.

The rest of the FBI agents and cops who were apparently right outside came in and started guiding civilians out of the room. Morgan came and grabbed James and yanked him off the table and escorted him out and into the back of a car.

I stayed in the room with the presence shock on my face as everything happened so quickly. I stumbled back against a wall and slowly slipped down to the floor. Spencer immediately fell down to my side and wrapped me in his arms as I cried against the dark fabric of his sweater.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s all over now.” He soothed, rubbing my back with a delicate touch. “No one’s going to hurt you ever again.”

I clung to him like a baby, and he wiped the tears off of my cheeks. We sat there for what felt like hours, me curled up in a ball on his lap, and him comforting me with touch and soft humming in my ears. His hands raked through my hair and I let myself quiescent while he was around me and I think I could have fallen asleep there in that moment.

He finally spoke though just above a whisper,“Are you ready to go home?”

My eyes opened and looked into his coffee colored ones. “Yeah… but Spence?” He hummed in response, “Since I have a concussion, I’m not supposed to be alone.”

He blinked, composing thoughts in his brain. Suddenly the man with the rambling didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Are you… um,” he coughed, “asking me to spend the night with you?”

I blushed at his clarification, “well, of course it would be nice, but you don’t- I mean-” He stopped my flustered babbling with a soft yet purposeful kiss. When he pulled away, he pulled all of my words and thoughts away with him.

“I’d love to stay with you.”


End file.
